


step into the night

by theshipshipper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Happy Ending, Marauders AU, i know nobody asked for it but here it is anyway hehe, jonsa-centric, slightly slowburn but with plenty of fluff throughout, tags will be added as we progress, time jumps will happen here and there haha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2020-11-23 12:57:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipshipper/pseuds/theshipshipper
Summary: The Marauders, composed of four young wizards and known troublemakers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are forced to grow up quickly with the Dark Lord's sudden rise to power.With many tough challenges ahead of them, they fall in and out of -- love, friendships, and family.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the books, specifically from the quote, "And now, Harry, let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure," said by Dumbledore.

Jon was quiet as he walked along the hallway leading to the dining room, his heart pounding loudly in his chest at the thought of what would come later in the day.

Today was to be his first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; he's been waiting for this moment for as long as he could remember, convinced that it would be the most important day of his life. He's been hearing the stories about the historical castle all his life, had even read about it in some of the books that filled Dragonstone's magnificent library. 

Though, while he couldn’t wait to see it and experience it for himself, he couldn't help but also be afraid.

"Jon, there you are," his sister's voice cut off his thought and he looked up to find his father's family - his father, Rhaegar, his wife, Elia, and their children, Rhaenys and Aegon - turning to him upon arrival. "Come sit by me and eat your breakfast. We're leaving for school in an hour, you don’t want to be late on your first day."

He nodded and hurried to his seat, pushing away his discomfort. Despite living with the Targaryens for a couple of years now, Jon still couldn't get used to being around them.

His life before them had been pretty simple; it was just him and his mum and their little cottage house on the outskirts of Summerhall. They weren't rich by any stretch of the word but Jon has never been as happy as he was when his mother was still alive.

Belatedly, Jon realized the empty seats around the table. He should have noticed it sooner, considering his grandfather never missed an opportunity to let him know he didn't belong.

He wondered where Mad Old Aerys and his two younger children could possibly be at such an early hour but he didn't care enough to ask. Privately, he welcomed their absence during an already stressful morning.

""How will we get sorted into houses, Father?" Aegon, his older brother by a few months, asked.

Aegon was sitting opposite him and one look told him that his brother didn't share his growing anxiety about the whole thing. 

Jon's mind wandered as his Father explained the process, already familiar about it himself. His mother had explained it to him when she was still alive, telling him of the Sorting Hat had the ability to see the house which its wearer rightly belonged to.

There were four Hogwarts houses in total, each searching for different qualities the specific student may possess. Gryffindor values courage, bravery, and chivalry. Ravenclaw values intelligence, creativity, and wit. Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, and loyalty. And Slytherin values ambition, leadership, and resourcefulness.

Jon knew in his heart that he wanted to be in Gryffindor, just as his mother had been. He'd dreamed of it for so long and had never once considered the possibility of ending up somewhere else. At least he didn't until he learned who his father was.

Targaryens come from a long line of Slytherins, counting back to the first Aegon Targaryen that built their castle here in Dragonstone. It would be no surprise for Aegon to get sorted into the same house, Jon only wished he shared his brother’s enthusiasm for the prospect. 

It wasn't that he disliked the other houses, it was truly just that his mother was a Gryffindor when she attended Hogwarts and he thought getting sorted into the same house would keep a piece of her alive somehow. 

Soon after breakfast, his father left to attend to some important business, leaving his wife to bring the three of them to King's Landing station.

Platform Nine and Three Quarters was booming with activity when they arrived, filled with both parents and students as they said their goodbyes. 

Jon felt his stomach turn in envy; he wished his mother could be there to wish him luck on his first day and remind him, as she often used to, that she loved him and that she would always be proud of him. 

"Jon," Elia called for his attention and he blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

He looked around and realized that Rhaenys and Aegon must have already entered the train. He glanced up at his father's wife sheepishly.

Elia put a hand on his shoulder and offered him a warm smile. "Are you ready to go in?"

He looked around him once kore, almost as if he expected his mother to arrive at the last minute. 

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Aye. Thank you for bringing me here," he told her politely. “Have a safe trip back to Dragonstone.”

Finally, he made his way inside the train, his luggage along with him, and pulled it along the narrow corridor in search of an open compartment.

"Hey, Jon," Aegon called before he could get far. "Where were you? I thought you were right behind me. I've found Loras and Joffrey in one of the compartments up ahead but there's only space for one left. Shall we find somewhere else to sit?"

It's a kind offer and Jon knew his brother meant it, even if he would have preferred to sit with his friends. It’s not like Jon was good company.

He found himself shaking his head. "No, it's alright. You sit with them, I can find somewhere else to stay."

Aegon frowned, looking torn. "You mean it? I don't want you to be alone."

He waved it off. "It's really alright, Egg. I wanted to get a bit of sleep in, anyway, and Joffrey never shuts up."

Aegon’s lips quirked into a smile, a silent agreement. "Okay, then. If you're sure."

They parted ways, his brother making his way back to the front where his friends were and Jon up ahead, continuing his search for a seat.

He passed another first year after the third corridor, looking frustrated at the lack of seats.

“Everywhere else is full?” The boy asked him.

He nodded in reply. “Aye. Let’s keep going to the back. Surely, it can’t all be occupied.”

To Jon’s relief, it truly wasn’t. They finally found a compartment with enough space for two at the end of the sixth corridor.BThere were two boys inside, though the pair was too busy trading their liquorice between them to notice their arrival.

Jon slid the compartment door open and cleared his throat. “Do you boys mind if we sit here?"

"No, come on in," one of them, a red-haired boy with sharp features and piercing blue eyes, spoke up.

“Thanks.”

They stood up and helped Jon and the other boy get their luggages into the free shelves before closing the door and settling in. 

Four strangers sat there, the air thick with awkward silence.

"I'm Robb," the red haired boy finally spoke, offering them a confident smile. He nodded to his side afterwards, gesturing at his friend. "This is Theon."

Theon offered them a crooked smile and Jon nodded at him in greeting.

"I'm Jon Snow," he replied thoughtlessly, realizing his mistake too late.

Targaryen, he corrected himself privately, but didn't voice it out. He didn't think he’d ever get used to using his father’s name as his.

He turned to the boy on his side, who offered them all a bright and friendly smile. "I'm Gendry. Um, Waters."

"Cool. Nice to meet you. What house do you guys think you’ll be in?" Theon asked, looking at them in interest.

Jon felt anxiety build up within him, unsure of how to answer. He wanted to be in Gryffindor but he's convinced he'll end up in Slytherin. Explaining it to strangers would take time and effort and he wasn't up for it. Plus, Slytherins didn't really have the best reputation these days, what with the war and all, and the knowledge that the Night King plucked his army from the very house.

Thankfully, Robb offered his answer before any of them. "I think I'll be in Gryffindor," he said with a proud smile. "Just like my dad and all the Starks before him."

_ Stark _ . The name sounded familiar to Jon, though he couldn't place it at the moment.

"What do you mean by houses?" Gendry asked earnestly, looking between the three. "What’s a Gryffindor?"

The other two looked confused by the question at first then understanding dawned on Robb. "Ah. You're muggle-born?" When Gendry showed no sign of understanding the question, he scratched his head thoughtfully. "I meant to say... your folks are non-magic?"

"Oh, yeah." Gendry agreed in relief. "Well, at least as far as I know. My father could have been a wizard, but... uh, I never met him."

He looked a bit embarrassed admitting the last bit, which made Jon feel a bit sympathetic. He's known magic all his life, he couldn't imagine how strange it would be to suddenly be thrust into their world. But that bit about not knowing his father hit close to home as well. Jon didn't meet his until his mother died a couple years ago.

"So you never knew about magic? All your life?" Theon asked incredulously, staring at Gendry in fascination. "That sounds terrible. I can't imagine how you survived."

Gendry shrugged, unsure how to answer that. He turned to Jon. "So... what was that about a house? The one you guys mentioned earlier."

He tried to explain how the sorting worked, with Robb and Theon piping in every so often to add some facts he'd missed.

"So... you all know which houses you belong to?" He asked after a while. "Because you come from wizarding families?"

Robb seemed to consider the question carefully. "Well, not exactly. I would most likely end up in Gryffindor like my ancestors before me, but I could still end up anywhere else as well."

Theon nodded in agreement. "My mum was a Hufflepuff, dad was a Slytherin, but my sister ended up in Ravenclaw. And even before that my family’s always been in different houses, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs. With a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors scattered here and there. "

Gendry nodded slowly. “So then it doesn't really matter where I end up?"

"Well..." Robb made a face, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Theon was the one to voice out the answer they were all already thinking. "You probably wouldn't want to end up in Slytherin."

Gendry blinked. "Why not?"

"You’d have a hard time there, most likely. For being muggle-born," Jon was the one to say. He could almost hear the vile things his grandfather would always say about them. It made Jon's skin crawl, knowing he shared even a drop of blood with the man.

He cleared his throat. "Not all are terrible," he clarified, thinking of his sister, his aunt, and even Aegon who would definitely end up a Slytherin. "But a lot of them come from families obsessed with blood purity. They don't think highly of, um... well, muggle-borns and non-magic folk alike."

"It’s unlikely you’ll find a friend there,” Robb added. “Even if some of them are nice, not a lot of people are keen to befriend muggle-borns these days. Puts their lives in danger, see.”

“What do you mean? How?” Gendry asked in disbelief, looking slightly frightened.

Theon gave him an incredulous look. “You really don’t have any idea of what’s happening? The Night King's been spreading terror in the entire wizarding world for almost a year now. Even muggles haven’t been safe, you must have heard of it.”

"Muggle news wouldn't have blamed it on magic, Theon," Robb pointed out. "They don't even know to blame it on the Dark Lord."

“I've no idea about any of it. Honestly," Gendry told them, slightly bewildered. "And who’s this Night King you mentioned?”

The atmosphere in the compartment turned dark; this was a conversation they shouldn’t be having. Dark times are coming ahead of them and there's no telling who to trust. Speaking about such things could mean death, especially when one was surrounded by complete strangers.

Robb glanced at their surroundings as though to make sure no unwanted ears were listening in on their conversation.

Theon shook his head. "You won’t go asking around about him if you know what's good for you.”

“Look, It’s difficult to talk about because everyone’s scared,” Jon tried to explain. As uncomfortable as he felt talking about it, it won’t do Gendry any good to not know anything. “The thing is, many old wizarding families think pure bloods are the superior kind and the Night King has leveraged this knowledge to rally people to his cause." Jon paused, carefully picking his words. "The entire Wizarding world has been at war with each other for over a year now and so many has already died."

“And I could get killed as well? Just for being born the way I was?”

The three shared an uncomfortable look between each other; no one wanted to answer that.

Finally, Robb was the one to speak. “No one’s safe in these dark times. It doesn't matter which side you're on, there’s going to be casualties. The best you can do is try not to be one of them. Just keep your head down and try not to make any enemies.”

“What about the, uh… the Ministry? Isn’t there one for Wizards? Why haven’t they tried to put a stop to it?”

"Don't you think they're trying?" Robb said, suddenly defensive. “Obviously, it’s not that easy."

Theon nodded in agreement. "Even people in the Ministry aren’t safe. Just a few days ago, the head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was murdered in her own home and the Aurors on the scene found the Dark Mark floating right above her house.”

Theon paused. “Lothor Frey took over her position and people are saying his entire family’s a supporter of the Dark Lord. But really, no one can know who’s on which side these days unless you outright say it, so you can see why everything’s been so difficult to fix.”

“How do you know about that?” Jon asked suddenly, frowning in confusion. “About that Ministry woman? I haven’t seen anything about that on the news.” And something as big as a Ministry official getting murdered would’ve no doubt made the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Theon threw Robb an sheepish look and the latter rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“I heard about it from my father,” Robb admitted after a moment. “He’s head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Jon glanced at him in surprise as the memory finally clicked into place. “Your father’s Ned Stark?”

He now recalled why the name sounded so familiar; he remembered his mother mentioning back when she was still alive. But Jon also heard the name being uttered by someone else. His grandfather had raged on and on about the man most important in the Ministry next to the Minister of Magic himself.

_ "A piece of scum, that Eddard Stark," Mad Old Aerys had shouted during a gathering with the entire Targaryen Clan in Dragonstone. "Muggle-loving Blood Traitor. A disgrace of a man. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Dark Lord wiped out his entire line next." _

“Aye.” Robb answered curiously, surprised by Jon’s outburst. “You know him?”

Jon cleared his throat. “No. I just… my mother used to work for him when she was an Auror. She really looked up to him.”

The four of them poke throughout their journey to Hogwarts and since none of them were keen on continuing their previous conversation, they moved on to much lighter topics afterward. None of them even realized how much time had passed until they were being ushered to the docks where boats awaited to take them to Hogwarts. 

They’re ushered into a big room as soon as they arrived in the castle and the woman who introduced herself as Professor Mordane instructed them to stay put before she left to make sure everything was settled for the Sorting Ceremony.

Among the gathered first years, his brother found him.

“Nervous?” He asked Jon, putting an arm around his shoulder comfortingly.

Jon nodded. “Aye. A bit.”

His reply only made his brother grin. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. Once we’re in Slytherin, it’d be just like home. Only this time, we can learn some hexes to throw at Uncle Viserys when he’s being an unbearable assling.”

The idea made Jon grin. Their Uncle Viserys was in his sixth year. A Slytherin Prefect, in fact, and possibly the most frightening person Jon has met aside from their grandfather. The thought of paying him back for his horrible attitude was a tempting one.

As quickly as it appeared, though, his grin evaporated when he noticed his newly-found friends staring at him and his brother in confusion. 

They’ve obviously heard what his brother had just said and with Egg’s trademark Targaryen silver hair and purple eyes, it didn’t take a genius to work it all out. But before he could say anything to explain, Professor Mordane re-entered the room and quickly ushered them into the Great Hall.

Almost immediately, Jon's prior thoughts disappeared at he marveled at how breathtaking the Great Hall was. It was…  _ wow _ . Jon’s never seen anything so incredible. Just the Hall itself wasn't even half as grand as his father's entire home. 

When he turned to his side, he saw that even Aegon's mouth hung open as he stared at the ceiling which reflected the vast night sky.

The first years were quickly directed to form three lines at the front before the Sorting Hat came alive with a song performance. Jon stared at it throughout its number; it was dusty and old, not at all as impressive as he’d imagined it to be, but the sight of it made him anxious all the same. That old thing had the power to dictate where he would end up.

Soon, Professor Mordane started calling them alphabetically. The student called would sit on the stool provided at the front before the Hat was placed over their heads. The rest watched quietly, usually for a short few minutes, until the Hat came back to life and proclaimed a house for each individual.

Jon recognized some of his fellow first years being called, like Joffrey Baratheon who was sorted into Slytherin and Edric Dayne who got into Hufflepuff. Sometimes he would tune it out, feeling more anxious as more of his peers got sorted.

He heard Theon get sorted into Gryffindor, followed by a girl named Wylla Manderly. On and on the sorting went until it got closer to him. Robb got into Gryffindor as exoected and the shaking boy called after him, Samwell Tarly, was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Jon turned to look at each table in the Great Hall, wondering which one he would end up sitting in. His eyes lingered on the one on the left, spotting his older sister sitting there. She noticed him looking and offered him a reassuring grin and a thumbs up, which only made him feel guilty. It still wasn’t a table he wanted to be in.

At long last, Aegon’s name was called. He walked confidently to the stool, no trace of worry in his steps, and offered Jon a wink before his head went underneath the Sorting Hat.

In only a matter of seconds, quicker than any of the others, he was proclaimed a Slytherin. Jon swallowed nervously as he watched his brother make his way to the Slytherin table. That was too quick. What if the same thing happened to him? What if he's sorted into Slytherin by merit of his being a Targaryen?

He knew in his gut that he didn’t want that for himself; His father had already taken so much from him, even his mother’s name. To be in Gryffindor would be the last remaining connection he would have with her and he didn’t want it taken away as well.

"Targaryen, Jon.”

He sucked in a deep breath before making his way slowly to the front and found only relief when the Sorting Hat announced him to be Gryffindor. Even if the crowd went silent with surprise.

A Targaryen that wasn’t sorted into Slytherin. It was practically unheard of.

He made his way to his table as murmurs followed him. He doesn’t turn to check, but he was sure that both his siblings, his aunt, and uncle, would all be staring at him dumbfounded with shock.

He could already imagine how unbearable future gatherings with his relatives would be from now on, though this was only one more reason among many for them to look down on him. A Half-blood and a Gryffindor. What a shame to the family name.

His father might not be surprised to find out about it, though, Jon thought. He probably even knew he wasn’t cut out for Slytherin all along, which would explain why he never spared a glance at his youngest son.

Jon shook the thought away and focused his mind elsewhere. It didn’t matter what they would think, he knew in his gut that his mother would be happy for him.

The Sorting went on with only a few more students remaining. Aegon’s friend, Loras, who was called shortly after Jon, was sorted into Slytherin, to no one’s surprise. Another boy whose name he didn’t catch was sorted into Hufflepuff, then a girl to Ravenclaw. And then finally, Gendry’s name was called, and he looked about ready to pass out in fear as he sat down on the stool.

Theon, Robb, and Jon cheered the loudest when he was sorted into Gryffindor and Gendry himself couldn’t help but smile as he made his way to their table.

Some time during the feast, Jon found himself sitting with the three he’d started this journey with, and he badly wishedthat he hadn’t messed things up by simply being his father’s son.

He found that he hadn’t when Robb, as they made their way into the Gryffindor Common Room, spoke to him. “So, you’re a Targaryen, huh?”

Jon made a face. “Aye. I didn’t mean to hide it, it’s just…” He took a deep breath. He didn’t know if he could trust Robb or not but he decided to put his faith in him, anyway. “I’ve been Jon Snow all my life. At least until I found out who my father was and he took me in. Still, I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

Robb nodded as though he could understand what he meant and then offered him a hand. “Well, then. Welcome to Gryffindor, Snow.”

Jon grinned, grateful, and shook his hand. “And you, Stark.”


	2. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edited the first chapter to add in a bit more detail)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**PART 1**

** _The Boy Called by the Moon_ **

  
  
  


_ 4 Years Later _

  
  
  


Jon yawned loudly as he rose from his seat, grabbing his books and parchments from his desk after Professor Mordane finally dismissed the class.

It had taken all his effort not to fall asleep during the lecture, exhausted as he was. With Quidditch season just around the corner, Jon, along with the rest of the Gryffindor team has been training nonstop in the hopes of winning back the Quiddich Cup they'd lost to Hufflepuff two years ago.

They’d almost won the title last year but their Keeper had injured himself halfway through their last game, leaving their goal posts unprotected. It had been an unfortunate defeat, one that their Team Captain and Chaser, Waymar Royce, hadn't been able to let go.

In his determination not to have a repeat of last year, Waymar started their rigorous training early, urging the team to master all possible techniques they can use to their advantage throughout the season.

"What time did you leave this morning?" Robb asked as they walked towards the door where Theon and Gendry waited. "You weren't in your bed when I woke up."

"I left early," he yawned out. "Royce wanted to sneak in a few hours of training since Slytherin's got the field tonight."

Since starting his fifth year, all of Jon's free time had been spent in the Quidditch Field, leaving him exhausted the rest of the time. In fact, even his school performance was starting to suffer because of it.

“I really think you should talk to Mordane about this,” Robb suggested as they turned a corner towards the Great Hall. “You shouldn’t be spending all this time training when we have O.W.L.S. at the end of the year. Is Waymar trying to kill you?”

Jon groaned. “Don’t even remind me about O.W.L.S. Besides, I don't want to cause any trouble when we're a week away from our first game."

"Maybe Waymar will lay off of you a bit once Gryffindor wins against Slytherin," Gendry offered, trying to sound positive.

Jon disagreed with that. "Doubtful. Royce has been scarily obsessed these past few months. "He'll only rest once we have the House Cup."

“I heard his application to the Night’s Watch Quidditch team had been accepted," Theon supplied. "Did he mention anything about that?"

Jon shook his head.

"Well, if that's true then it explains why he doesn't care about school," Robb decided. "He'd be worrying over NEWTs otherwise."

They entered the Great Hall together and the delicious smell of the variety of food lined up in the middle of the Gryffindor table hit him like a punch to the gut. He'd already missed breakfast because of training and now he was going to miss lunch to finish his assignment.

He groaned, rubbing his stomach soothingly before grabbing a sandwich and wrapping a napkin around it.

"I'll see you guys in Herbology," he said dejectedly. "I still have to write that essay on Schreechsnap."

"Are you serious?" Robb asked incredulously. "Just copy off of us. Luwin probably won't even notice."

It's a tempting offer and considering how exhausted he felt, it was probably smarter to accept. But he looked up at the Ravenclaw table in search of a certain face and spotted Robb's younger sister, Sansa, eating there among her fellow Ravenclaws.

He turned back to Robb and knew he'd rather head up to the library. "It's alright. I'll just see you in the Geeenhouse."

With his sandwich in tow, he started back towards the door, and just as he turned a corner towards the stairs, Rhaenys caught him mid-bite to his sandwich. She stopped in front of him, her friends following suit. His sister was now in her seventh and final year, sporting a head girl badge on her chest.

She crossed her arms, fixing him a stern look. "Is that all you're eating?" She asked disapprovingly, mothering him as usual. "Go back in there and eat properly, Jon. You'll get sick if you keep going like this."

Honestly, getting sick sounded enticing at the moment. If he got confined to the infirmary then they'd probably let him sleep in for more than three hours a day.

"I'm not hungry, Rhae," he lied instead, scratching his head. "I just have an assignment I need to finish."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And why didn't you do that earlier then?" She asked. "Egg said he saw you training this morning. Is Waymar Royce overworking you? Do you want me to speak to him?"

Sniggering, her friends finally left them to head into the Great Hall.

He made a face. There's really no getting out of this one, his sister won't just let it go. "It's just because the match is happening soon. Don't worry about it, I swear I'm fine."

"If you get sick, I'm coming for Royce's head," she told him, which made him grin.

That, he'd like to see.

"I won't even stop you," he promised.

"Alright. Go on and do your work."

He continued eating his sandwich as he walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, feeling a bit energized now that he had eaten. Once in his room, he grabbed his untouched herbology assignment from his desk and immediately proceeded to the library.

If he wasn't so tired, an hour would've been plenty of time to finish his work, but as it is, all he could think of was to drop his head on the table and shut his eyes for a few minutes while he tried to read the passage from the herbology book he found.

"Go ahead and sleep."

Jon looked up from the book he was trying to read and found Sansa taking her usual seat opposite him.

"What?" He asked tiredly, blinking at her in confusion.

Though unintentional, meeting in the library has become their routine. He usually went to do his assignments in between classes and he always found her there reading. At first, they both pretended not to notice the other, but the longer time passed, the harder it was to do. There really was no reason for them to avoid each other So one day he just sat on her table and did his work as she read, neither one of them ever acknowledging it.

"Sleep," she repeated, glancing at the clock near them. "I'll wake you in fifteen minutes."

He was going to argue but she'd already opened the book she brought with her, pointedly ignoring him. Loosening his necktie in resignation, he leaned over the table and buried his head in his arms to rest for a bit.

When his fifteen minutes was up, she woke him up as promised. It's not the best sleep he's had but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

"Thanks," he said appreciatively, stretching his arms.

He pulled the pile of books towards him to start working and only then realized that it wasn't the same ones he had earlier.

"Those have more on Screechsnaps than the books you've found," Sansa explained, tearing her gaze from her book to spare a look at him. "That's what I gave Robb and your friends, too."

"Oh," he said dumbly. "Right. Thanks, Sansa."

She lifted a shoulder in reply then went back to reading so he started on his assignment. He still felt tired but the bit of rest he had made it manageable for him to focus on his work.

He grinned widely when he finally finished; usually, he'd write maybe half of the required length just to have something to pass and so he isn't marked zero, but this was the first time in a while that he felt like he'd actually done an okay job with his school work.

He stood up and started piling the books to return them. After he did, he glanced at Sansa who was still busy reading as he gathered his things. Often, this was around the time they'd part to head to their respective classes but he found himself not looking forward to that.

"What class are you headed off to next?" He asked before he could stop himself.

She turned to him, confusion clouding her gaze. "Uh... potions?"

That's a long way from the Greenhouses but he didn't mind being a few minutes late; Professor Luwin probably wouldn't be mad at him for it.

"May I walk you?" She was evidently surprised by his request but he doesn't let it deter him. "It's the least I can do as thanks for your help."

She doesn't argue, so together they made their way down to the dungeons. As they walked along the dark corridor leading to the potions classroom , he noticed a few students start whispering amongst themselves as he and Sansa passed, most of them looking straight at her.

He frowned in confusion, turning to her questioningly. 

"It's because of Joffrey," she told him in a low voice before he could even ask. "It's no big deal."

He studied her face and saw no sign of distress. It didn't make him feel better, though, and thought she was too good at hiding how she truly felt.

"You know, I think they're actually looking at me," he lied, unsure what compelled him to even say that. She turned to him with a frown and he offered her a faux arrogant grin. "I'm really pretty. Some people just can't help but stare."

She snorted at that, her frown fading into amusement. "Arrogance doesn't look good on you," she informed him with a smile.

He agreed but didn't regret the attempt when it earned him a smile; he found that her whole face lit up when she did and her eyes turned a brighter blue somehow.

The hallway outside the classroom was crowded with fourth years; a mix of Ravenclaws and Slytherins was scattered around, chatting amongst themselves.

"What's wrong?" He murmured questioningly when Sansa's smile fell.

He followed her gaze and learned she was looking at Margaery Tyrell and Myrcella Baratheon; Jon knew them as Sansa's friends but he hadn't seen them hanging around together since the start of school.

He assumed it had something to do with Joffrey as well; him and Sansa started dating just before the end of term last year, but had broken up over the summer according to Robb. Then, when school a few months ago, Joffrey was suddenly dating Sansa's friend, Margary, which meant that Sansa received the brunt of the terrible fallout 

"Do they give you a hard time?" He asked Sansa now, studying her face carefully.

She shook her head, looking away from her former friends. "No. It's nothing, don't worry about it."

He didn't know if he believed her; he's heard that her younger siblings, both Bran and Arya, had gotten detention multiple times before for hexing anyone they caught gossiping about their older sister, but Jon didn't realize it was actually that bad. 

Robb must not have known either or he definitely would've come to blows with Joffrey in defense of his little sister.

Robb bumped his arm during herbology while Professor Luwin was in the middle of discussion, noticing his obvious irritation. "What's the matter with you?"

Jon turned to his best friend; he had half a mind to tell his friend about Sansa, how she's been silently fending for herself these past few months, and how he suspected people were giving her a difficult time because of Joffrey, but it's not for him to say. Sansa would've told her brother if she wanted him to know.

Instead, he tried to clear the frown off his face. "I'm just annoyed I got here late," he lied before facing the front to listen to Professor Luwin's lecture. "Don't mind me."

Two hours passed by without any event but Jon was still frustrated by the end of the class. It didn't help that Joffrey and his smug face was just a few feet away from him the entire time.

As they piled out of the Greenhouse, he caught side of the little shit again, his arms around Loras and Aegon as they laughed about something.

Without thinking about it, Jon took out his wand from under his robe and discreetly directed it at the golden-haired assling.

"Steleus," he muttered the incantation under his breath, followed byvthe wand movement. 

It's a jinx he and Aegon used to throw at their Uncle Viserys whenever they caught him bullying some younger students and Jon had to stifle a grin when he heard Joffrey sneeze loudly and multiple times as the hex came into effect.


	3. Jon II

The days leading up to the match flew by quickly, the hours bleeding into each other as Jon struggled to balance his school work and his quidditch training; his days were filled with long nights and early mornings until, finally, a few days before the match, Waymar informed them that training was over, allowing them a bit of free time at long last.

"What do you mean you can't come and watch?" Robb asked skeptically, frowning at Gendry. "It's the first game of the season, everyone's going to be there. How can you miss it?"

Jon, Robb, Gendry, and Theon were out by the lake, lying on the warm bed of grass under the sun on a lazy Friday afternoon. The entire school was buzzing with excitement for tomorrow and what would be the first Quidditch match of the season and the boys decided it would be a good idea to get in a bit of relaxation after their classes ended for the day.

Gendry set down the book he was reading and turned to Robb uncomfortably. “You know I’d go if I could but Headmaster Mormont said he needed to see me."

"Right during the game?" Robb asked again, just as skeptical as before.

"I don't know what else to tell you. You can go ahead and ask the Headmaster if you wish," Gendry retorted defensively, his tone sharp. 

Robb turned to meet Jon's eyes and threw him a pointed look; Gendry's excuses were nothing new, really. He's been disappearing from school premises since their first year, often with lousy excuses. They hadn't minded it when they were younger but it was getting more difficult to ignore the older they got.

They had their suspicions as to why he kept leaving, of course. Theon's theory was pretty bizarre, saying Gendry might secretly be a spy for the Dark Lord. It sounded unlikely purely because they knew Gendry enough to be sure he would never put himself in such a dangerous position; he was the peaceful type and was often the one who talked the three of them out of trouble. Jon and Robb shared a different opinion but it was one that sounded so ridiculous that they didn't want to speak of it until finding enough proof.

"What do you say we follow him after your game?" Robb asked quietly that night while they were preparing to sleep in the dormitories.

"How?" He asked incredulously, keeping his tone down so they’re not overheard by the other Gryffindor boys that shared their room. "He'd have left by the time the game ended."

"Theon can follow him, then, and see where he goes," Robb decided, working the plan out in his head. "Then as soon as your game's over, we’ll catch up to them."

Jon considered it for a moment before nodding. "Alright. If Gendry's not going to tell us the truth then we'll just have to find out for ourselves."

The dormitory was empty by the time Jon woke up the next morning, only to find his friends already gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast with their faces painted scarlet and gold, the Gryffindor colors. Sansa was also there and was right in the middle of painting Bran's face with their House’s sigil in an intricate design.

They acknowledged each other with a smile before she continued on her work and Jon was about to sit down and eat when his brother intercepted, pulling him away from the table with an arm around his shoulder. 

"You have to promise me you'll get that Golden Snitch," he said in lieu of a greeting. "I have fifteen galleons riding on you doing just that."

"Fifteen Galleons? Why would you bet that much?" Jon asked incredulously, to which Aegon laughed.

"I suppose I'm just that confident in my little brother's talent," he answered without a trace of doubt, ruffling Jon’s hair teasingly.

"You're only older by four months," Jon grumbled, swatting his brother's hand off his hair. Privately, he was pleased to hear that Aegon was rooting for him, still, despite the fact that him catching the Snitch would most likely mean a loss for Slytherin. 

“Semantics,” Aegon waved off before turning to him seriously. "Anyway, I've been meaning to ask -- did Joffrey mess with you or something? Do you want me to kick his ass for you?"

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, feigning ignorance. "Why would you ask?"

Of course, Jon knew exactly what Aegon meant. Joffrey has never been his favorite of his brother's friends; the boy was arrogant, rude, and often abused his privilege to the misfortune of others. While this always bothered him, he didn't think the conflict that would result in confronting Joffrey would be worth it.

That is -- until he hurt someone Jon cared about. Sure, he and Sansa had never been close, unlike how he was with the rest of her siblings, but he loved the Starks like they were family, and he wouldn't stand for the idea of letting a little shit like Joffrey Baratheon get away with hurting one of them.

“Oh, come off it, Jon. Don’t even pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about," Aegon retorted disbelievingly. "Joff's been getting hexed for weeks now and no one else could have gotten away with it for this long unless the culprit theoretically had an especially incredible  _ older _ brother looking out for him."

Jon tried not to make a face; he knew there was a possibility that Egg would figure it out sooner or later. He hung around Joffrey a lot and Jon knew he would be familiar with the jinxes and hexes that he used -- the very same ones he and his brother practiced on for retaliation on their Uncle.

"I seriously have no idea what you mean," Jon still insisted, his gaze instinctively flitting towards Sansa. 

She didn’t seem to be paying them any attention, too busy with adding the final touches to Bran’s face paint, but she was still close enough that she could have heard what Aegon just said and Jon hoped that she didn't.

" _ Oh _ . Now I understand what's going on," Aegon said slowly, following Jon’s gaze to her.

Aegon threw him a suggestive smile and he felt his ears heat up at his brother's silent insinuation.

"It's not what you're thinking," he said in a much, much lower voice, now really wishing that no one else could hear the turn in conversation.

His brother merely snorted. "Oh, really now? Tell me what I'm thinking, then. Loudly, if you please. I’m sure Robb would be interested to hear it as well."

Jon groaned and pushed his brother lightly. "Oh, shut it and go back to your friends. I need to get ready for the match."

Aegon just laughed and started to walk backwards towards the Slytherin table. "Don't worry, Jon," he said loudly, teasingly. "Your secret's safe with me."

Jon just shook his head in embarrassment as a few students turned their heads in interest, curious about the exchange. He ignored their looks and walked back to the table, sitting between his friends.

"What's he talking about?" Robb asked curiously, pertaining to his brother.

"It's nothing," he denied almost too quickly, forcing himself to act natural. "Egg's just messing around."

It wasn't like Jon to hide anything from Robb; he was, without a doubt, his bestest friend in the world and he never hesitated to share anything with the guy. Except, perhaps, this one.

  
  
  


****

  
  


Jon saw Robb waiting for him right outside their team's changing room after the game and he instantly broke away from the group as they piled out to approach his best friend 

Jon will have to admit that with the match taking up his mind for most of the day, he had forgotten all about their plans to trail after Gendry until he saw his best friend.

"Has Theon reached out?" He queried, looking around them to make sure no one was listening into their conversation.

"Aye. He sent me his patronus to deliver the message." Robb paused. “You’d never guess where he saw Gendry go into"

Jon frowned. "He didn't actually meet with the Headmaster, did he?"

“No, he didn’t,” Robb confirmed, looking befuddled as he spoke. “But Professor Mordane accompanied him to the Whomping Willow. Theon saw him go into a small opening at the trunk of the tree."

The Whomping WIllow was a big and towering tree located near the Forbidden Forest; Jon heard that it was planted on school grounds just before their first year began. It was known to be very violent and was dangerous to anyone who got too close to its reach. 

“Are you kidding? How? And why would Gendry even come anywhere near that thing?” Jon asked incredulously, turning to Robb. "And Professor Mordane just allows it?"

Students were forbidden from going anywhere near the tree; years ago, many made a game of trying to get close enough to touch its trunk without getting injured or, worse, killed by its sharp and impactful branches. The game didn’t stick, however, because there was one student who lost an eye when he did the dare a couple years back and so the school had to put a stop to it. The thought that a teacher would willingly allow a student to approach the tree was absurd. 

"I know it doesn't make sense but Theon insisted he knew how to get us in. He saw the Professor pull a lever or something to paralyze the tree long enough for Gendry to get in.” Robb turned to Jon seriously. “You do know what I’m thinking, don’t you?”

“Aye,” Jon answered quietly, his gaze turning upwards to see the bright full moon looking down on him.

Having known Gendry for five long years, both Robb and Jon had frequently noted a few odd patterns in their friend’s routine that they couldn’t hope to explain. It became quite obvious once they combined their individual observations but had no actual way to be sure save from outright asking.

They would have asked Gendry and cleared it with him once and for all if not for the risk of being wrong and sounding like complete idiots so they thought it best to keep their speculations to themselves with the absence of proof.VTonight, it seems they just might get it.

The pair quickly and discreetly made their way to the Whomping Willow, distancing themselves from the crowd that was still gathered around school grounds after the day’s event. Once they were sure that they could make their way without being noticed, they finally met up with Theon, who had been hiding by the edge of the Forbidden forest as he waited for their arrival.

“Took you two long enough,” he said with a wide grin, walking over to them with a long branch on his hand. “Are you ready?”

Robb nodded. “Go on.”

Theon didn’t waste a moment before walking towards the Whomping Willow, holding out the branch and using it to reach for the trunk. “I saw Professor Mordane do something similar," he explained with effort, trying to keep enough distance between himself and the tree. “There’s a knot just there that paralyzes the tree for a short time. I tried doing it earlier while waiting.”

Jon glanced up at the tree, its branches swaying dangerously, and watched as it stilled once Theon finally found the aforementioned knot.

“Good Job, T.” Robb offered with a grin before carefully making his way closer to the trunk.

Theon threw the branch to the side, wiping his hands clean with his jeans before following Robb into the tiny crack hidden carefully just below the tree’s trunk. Jon heaved out a heavy breath and walked in after them.

“Lumos,” he heard Robb say in the darkness and their path was suddenly lit just a second later by the bright light coming from his wand. 

“Huh. It’s a tunnel,” Theon stated, perplexed. “Why would there be a tunnel here?”

“Dunno. Where do you think it leads?” Robb asked next.

None of them had any answers to their questions of course so they just continued on quietly, eager to discover what was up ahead. 

They were about fifteen minutes into their journey when a loud roar emanated through the tunnel, making them all freeze in sudden fear. The sound was loud and full of agony, almost as if it was in pain. 

“What in the seven hells was that?” Theon was the first to speak up, his voice a loud whisper as he looked wildly between Jon and Robb.

“I have a feeling it's better if we don't know,” Robb said somberly, though none of them had any intention to stop now when they were close to getting answers. With a deep breath, he began to walk once more and the two followed shortly behind. 

The end of the tunnel led them to a house; dark, dusty, and with all of its furniture broken into pieces. With the light coming from Robb's wand, Jon could just make out that all the possible exits had been boarded up save from where they came in. 

He couldn't tell exactly where they were but he assumed, based on the length of their journey, that they were somewhere in Hogsmeade. It was the closest to Hogwarts and they often walked to the village on weekend trips.

"I think we're at the Shrieking Shack," Robb was the one to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You mean the haunted house in Hogsmeade Village? What would Ge - "

A sudden movement on the floor above made the three of them jump in surprise; Jon raised his wand defensively, squinting at his surroundings as he prepared himself for an attack. Theon does the same.

A huge silhouette suddenly appeared from the staircase, directly where Robb was shining a light. Its movement was quick and determined, its voice loud and sharp as it screamed, running towards them on all fours.

Instinctively, they all directed their wands at the creature as they backed away to safety and shouted their chosen spells.

"Stupefy," Jon shouted forcefully at the same time that Robb said, "Everte Statum."

Red light emanated from the tip of Jon's wand before it hit the creature; the effect of his spell, mixed with Robb's, stunned it and threw it all the way to the end of the room with heavy force.

Jon waited for the creature to make a move, sweat beading at his forehead in fear. When it doesn't seem like it's going to move, he turned to glance at Theon.

"Did I just hear you cast the Cheering Charm?" He asked disbelievingly, frowning at his friend. "What did you expect that to do?"

The Cheering Charm was nowhere near a defensive spell; it merely caused the target to feel elated and could even cause a bout of hysterical laughter if overdone. Jon didn't know how it could be useful in such a time.

"I panicked, okay? We were talking about it in class the other day and it was the first thing that came to mind."

"Alright. Hush up, both of you," Robb instructed before walking slowly to inspect the creature.

Jon followed after his best friend and saw that it had remained on the floor, completely still but conscious. His spell must've taken effect; he wasn't sure that it would since some magical creatures tended to be resistant to magic.

Robb, with his wand still pointed at the creature, uttered another spell. 

"Incarcerus."

A length of rope suddenly wrapped itself around the creature's body to keep it bound in place; a proper precaution should it regain consciousness sooner than expected.

Theon walked slowly towards them, the tip of his wand bright to offer up some light. 

Jon studied the creature; with the light, he could see it more clearly. It looked like a wolf, big and thick-furred, its nails sharp and long. But it was different, too, Jon couldn't help but note. Its snout was shorter than that of a regular wolf and its eyes were --

Well, they were human-like. Familiar, even, if Jon was honest.

"Is it what I think it is?" Theon asked, his voice unusually quiet.

"Aye." Jon nodded slowly. "It's a werewolf."


	4. Jon III

The sun wasn’t going to rise until a few more hours so the boys had a while to wait inside the Shrieking Shack before the werewolf would turn back to his human form. 

The three sat near the tunnel, far enough from the creature while still close enough to see if it made any sudden movement. Jon, meanwhile, kept to himself as Robb explained their theory to Theon, feeling too tired to participate in the conversation. 

It had been a long day for him, what with the Quidditch match and all. 

Of course, Gryffindor won the match tonight; Slytherin wasn’t their toughest competition for the Cup, far from it really, the position was reserved for Hufflepuff, but Jon still hated playing with them. He always has to be extra alert with Slytherin, especially with Ramsay Bolton as one of the team’s beaters. The boy, for some reason, had it out for him, and would constantly knock the bludger towards him with an obvious attempt at injuring him. 

It didn’t help that Bolton was just promoted as the team’s Captain and had seemingly instructed his teammates to mess with Jon as well. While Waymar had prepared him well for it, Jon still felt worn out at the end of the game with the effort of deflecting all the attacks aimed at him. As a result, he found himself dozing off as they waited for morning to come, his hack flat against a wall inside the Shrieking Shack.

"Jon. Look," he heard Robb whisper beside him, his voice quiet and almost awed.

His eyes flew open immediately, drawing his wand instinctively. It took a moment for his vision to adjust to the dimly-lit room but he realized soon enough that they weren’t in any sort of pressing danger. A few feet from them, he noticed the creature begin its slow transformation back into their friend. The process looked to be painful, judging from Gendry’s expression. His face contorted into pure agony as his body turned back to its usual form.

The boys rose from the floor, feet away from their friend as they watched. Once his transformation was done, Jon walked over to him quickly to free him from the now loose ropes around him. In the process, he saw a ghastly scar on Gendry’s shoulder that he assumed was the mark from when he was bitten. 

He looked away from it just as Robb handed Gendry a clean set of clothes; they found them upstairs and figured that he must've stepped out of them before turning.

"You shouldn't have followed me," he spoke quietly as he wrapped his robes around his body to cover himself, his voice hollow and weak. "I could've killed you."

"But you didn't," Jon replied, settling on the floor next to him. 

Gendry made no reply, turning his gaze on the floor and looking somewhat defeated.

"Yeah. We were pretty badass,” Theon quipped, grinning widely to try and make their friend feel better. “It was great. You should’ve seen us kick a werewolf's ass." 

"How many people can say the same?" Robb agreed, sitting back down on the floor.

“Less impressive, though, when you realize it’s only Gendry.” Theon continued to tease, sitting down as well.

Jon couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You talk big, Greyjoy, but he would’ve eaten your guts out without Robb and I.”

Gendry looked between the three of them strangely, his eyes screaming confusion. It was obvious to Jon that his friend wasn't expecting such a reception. Werewolves were reviled creatures in the wizarding world; it was most likely why he had chosen to hide this side of himself from them, fearing the possibility that they would shun him once they found out.

"Will you tell us how this happened?" Robb asked after a moment, giving their friend a careful look. "Only if you're comfortable, of course."

Gendry was quiet for a long while, thoughtful, before finally speaking up. "I was bitten when I was ten, a few months before my birthday. I had no idea about the wizarding world back then. Magic and werewolves and all of that were just bedtime stories in the muggle world." He let out a heavy breath. "Then one night, this - this monster came into my room while I slept. He was big and frightening, he had sharp teeth and dark eyes -- he was not human at all. He bit me and fled as I screamed in pain at what he’d done."

Jon could imagine Gendry then; young, innocent, and with a normal future stolen from him with just a single bite.

"Wait. I - I've heard of this," Robb said slowly, a frown on his face as he tried to remember. "I heard my mother and father talking about this, about a muggle no older than myself who got bitten by a werewolf in his sleep. Father was following a lead that night and sent out a group of his best Aurors to chase after the culprit.” They were unable to find him again to this day but It was Gregor Clegane, wasn't it? The one who bit you?"

"Aurors came not long after I was bitten,” Gendry agreed with a nod. “They put some kind of medicine on the bite and explained to my mother what had happened. They thought I would die, since most muggles did once they’re bitten and none of us knew I was a wizard at that point. I didn't even realize one of them was your father until a few years after we met.” 

He paused as if searching for words before looking up to meet Robb’s gaze. “He’s a great man, your father. You wouldn’t know this but he encouraged my mum into letting me come to Hogwarts. He, uh - he came by after my letter arrived, explained what Hogwarts was and what it would mean for me to study here. I thought it was pointless since I obviously wasn't going to be able to go in my condition. But he assured us that he made arrangements with the school. To help me when I turn. And now here I am." 

They headed back to the school not long after, once they'd asked Gendry all they could think of. Since it was a Sunday, none of them had classes to attend and decided to skip their pre-planned trip to Hogsmeade in favor of sleep, all of them beyond exhausted from the night's events and the discussion that followed. 

Jon was so tired that he would’ve slept until the next day if it wasn’t for his best friend who decided to wake him up with a pillow thrown to the face. He groaned out, not much of a heavy sleeper, and threw the pillow right back at Robb in annoyance before receiving another blow just seconds later.

"Stop it," he said with gritted teeth, turning on his stomach to chase after his broken slumber.

"We skipped dinner yesterday. We should eat," Robb pointed out before pulling his pillow from under him. “Come on, Jon. Get up.” 

“Bloody hell,”Jon cursed out and tried to kick his friend’s shin. “Bugger off.”

Robb merely stepped away from his reach and laughed and hit him again with his own pillow. “I’m not leaving you alone until you stand up. I’m hungry.”

Jon rubbed his face in annoyance before finally sitting up. “You are such a child. You could just eat by yourself, for fuck’s sake.”

Robb smirked and threw his pillow back on the bed. “I would have but you’re awake already so just come with.”

Jon rolled his eyes and grabbed his sweater from the headboard, tugging it on before he followed Robb downstairs. There they found Gendry sitting thoughtfully by the window, looking really troubled.

"Hey, G," Robb called him as they approached and patted him on the shoulder. “Where's Theon?”

Gendry turned to them, looking mildly surprised to see them. "Uh, he’s upstairs. Still asleep."

"Oh, fuck's sake," Robb grumbled instantly before making his way back to the staircase. "Do I look like an alarm clock?"

Jon just shook his head and turned to Gendry, who was frowning as he watched Robb disappear into the stairs. 

"Will you stop that?" He asked, pulling Gendry’s attention to him.

"Stop what?" he asked, sounding startled.

"That." Jon pointed to the expression on his face. "Like you're confused we don't suddenly hate you."

"Well, shouldn't you hate me?" He asked, looking down shamefully. "I mean… now that you know the truth.*

"Why should we? What happened to you wasn't your fault or even your choice, There's no reason for us to hold it against you." Jon paused, putting an arm around him reassuringly. "Besides, it's not like you're any different from who you were the other day, or the day before that. You're still the same, we just know you better now."

  
  
  


***

  
  


It was easy to fall back to normal routine after their discovery of Gendry's secret, though with a few adjustments. 

Since the next Quidditch match wasn't until March of the next year, Waymar receded their training to twice a week until after Christmas break. This meant that Jon had a lot more free time on his hands, most of which he spent with the boys in search of more secret tunnels. 

With their newfound knowledge that secret tunnels within Hogwart did exist, they’ve decided to make it a mission to find the rest. In just the three weeks since they began, they've already managed to find a few, though most of them were just passages between rooms within the castle.

The one thing that didn’t change in Jon’s routine, however, was his trip to the library during lunch break. Though, admittedly, he had a lot more time to do his assignments at night before bed,he still often found an excuse to head there so he could meet Sansa. For reasons unknown even to himself.

Jon had just gotten to the library, in fact, when he spotted her on their usual table. He stopped by the door, frowning when he realized she was with another student. She seemed to be smiling as the other person spoke, who he recognized as a Hufflepuff named Dickon Tarly. 

Slowly, he backed away until reaching the door. He didn’t really know anything about the guy aside from the fact that he was in her year and he wasn’t interested in finding out more. He pushed the door open and exited the library, headed back to the Great Hall where his friends were still eating.

So unusual was his sudden arrival that Robb greeted him with a frown as he sat down; skipping lunch was such a common occurrence for him at this point that his friends no longer even questioned the habit. 

“I thought you're supposed to be at the library?”

“I realized I already did my assignment last night,” he lied and started piling his plate with food grumpily.

They were on their way to Hogsmeade the following day when Sansa fell into step with him; he was walking behind his friends, not in the mood to play around, when she suddenly appeared. 

He turned to her in surprise; she was looking straight ahead, her hair braided in an intricate design under a blue beanie and her hands tucked warmly inside her long grey cloak. 

“You didn’t come to the library yesterday?” She asked after a long moment of silence, finally turning to meet his gaze.

He looked away and cleared his throat before shaking his head. “I, uh -- I had something to do.”

“Hm,” was her only reply, which made him somewhat defensive.

“It’s true. The boys and I went to the fifth floor to mess around with Peeves,” he lied, though not entirely. While they actually did what he said, it wasn’t until he’d gone back to the Great Hall that they came up with the idea to find the school’s poltergeist and see if he had any information about secret passages.

“I saw you leaving the library yesterday,” Sansa finally informed him and he tried not to make a face.

“Right. I did go there but then I remembered that I’d already finished my work and that we were supposed to meet Peeves, so I left,” he said slowly, amending his prior statement.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Sansa informed him, looking somewhat amused. “It’s not like you even do any assignment at the library anymore. You’re always just doodling and pretending to look serious. So what was there to forget?”

He felt himself flush; he didn’t think she’d notice. He usually tried to block her view from his parchment with books and whatnot so she wouldn’t see.

“Alright, fine. You’re right,” he finally admitted. No use hiding it now. “I usually finish my school work at night, just so I’m not always panicking about it the next morning.”

“Why do you still come to the library, then?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I dunno. I guess I just wanted to keep you company. It didn’t seem like you needed it yesterday, though.”

Jon could feel her studying his face but he refused to turn and check for sure; she had a way of looking at him that made him nervous, as if she could read him like a book. 

“He asked if I’d accompany him to Madam Puddifoot’s Teashop,” She spoke up after a while, turning her gaze up ahead where his friends continued to play. “The boy from yesterday, I mean.”

His head whipped to her in surprise. “What did you say?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I’ve gone to that teashop once, back when Joffrey and I were still together. It wasn’t as romantic as people kept saying. It was small and cramped, and many of the students were snogging.” She wrinkled her nose. “It was uncomfortable. Even more so when I realized Joff was expecting the same thing from me.”

Jon frowned; the more stories he heard about Joffrey, the more he hated the boy. He was about to comment on it when Robb suddenly turned towards them and noticed his sister.

“Oh. Hey, San, I didn’t realize you were there,” he said in surprise and the three of them stopped playing to wait for their approach. “Are you heading to Hogsmeade by yourself?”

She nodded in confirmation and Jon ducked his head to hide a smile, glad to hear she wasn’t actually on her way to meet with Dickon Tarly.

“You boys mind if I tag along?” She asked, directing the question at her brother.

“Course not,” Robb assured. “We’re just headed to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer.” 

“Great. I’ll meet with you there in a bit, then,” She agreed with a nod. “I just have to stop by Honeydukes to buy some sweets for Bran.”

“I’ll come with,” Jon blurted out loudly, to which Robb gave him a strange look. “I - uh - I wanted to buy a pumpkin pastry. I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Buy one for me as well, will you?” Theon perked up and tossed him a coin. “Make that two, actually. And a Jelly Slug.”

Jon tried not to glare at his friend and agreed, promising to meet them again shortly. They parted ways upon reaching the Three Broomsticks, with the boys heading in while Jon and Sansa walked past to get to Honeydukes.

“You could’ve gone somewhere else,” Jon said once they were alone again, turning to Sansa to continue their previous conversation. “It didn’t have to be at Madam Puddifoot’s.”

“Well, he didn’t ask to go anywhere else," she replied, sounding as if it was just that simple to her.

Jon found himself frowning. “If he had asked, you would’ve said yes?”

Sansa met his eyes, studying him for a second with a hint of a smile on her lips. “Why do you even want to know?”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Just curious.”

She hummed. “Well, then, maybe I would have said yes.”

She quickened her pace into the door of Honeydukes, leaving him standing there outside with a frown creasing his brows. He let out a sigh and looked up, frowning, still, as he stared up at the bright blue sky.

“Seven hells,” he muttered glumly, unsure why the idea of her going out with that boy even bothered him so much.


	5. Sansa I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to [WeMarchAtDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeMarchAtDawn/pseuds/WeMarchAtDawn) because they asked about a Sansa POV -- and I subsequently realized how BADLY I wanted to write one. Hehe.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!!!!

“Miss Stark. A moment, if you please?”

Sansa shut her eyes at the sound of her name, her stomach falling as she stared at the door. She was almost out of the classroom with just a few steps; if she just walked a little bit faster than she did, she could have escaped the situation before it had a chance to arise.

Taking a deep breath, she plastered on a polite smile on her face as she turned. “Yes, Professor?”

Most of her classmates were still gathering their belongings from their desks, preparing to head out for their following class. She looked around and caught Margaery’s eye from her table at the front, who was looking at her with a vaguely concerned look on her face. 

Of everyone, her former best friend would know just how anxious this situation always made her. Usually, she could count on Marg to help her out of it but as of late, Sansa has had to rely on her own wits and hoped it would be enough. 

She looked away and walked towards her Professor’s desk, keeping a careful distance between herself and the older man. As she already expected, Baelish waited until the room was cleared before he spoke, sitting on his desk casually as he watched her; somewhat akin to a predator stalking its prey. 

Sansa swallowed, preparing herself for the man’s usual untoward advances on her. 

She made it a point to always be the first out of the room as soon as Baelish's class ended but he sometimes still found a way to keep her for a while, citing one error or the other on her assignments. After noticing the pattern, she became obsessed with making sure her Defense Against the Dark Arts assignments were perfect, more so than she would with her other subjects, going over her papers tenfold to make sure that Baelish wouldn't be able to find any sort of flaw in it and therefore no further reason to single her out.

The tactic has been going well in the last couple of months. Until today.

"Sansa, I just wondered if you had time to help me with grading some of the course works submitted by your classmates," he explained in a sickly sweet voice. "Mayhaps every Friday night, if you're free? You are my brightest student, as you well know, and I would greatly appre -"

*I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm afraid I don't have a lot of free time on my hands," she cut him off before he could continue, plastering a faux-apologetic expression on her face. "I myself have a lot of work to do, considering I've taken up three electives this year. And I spend most evenings helping my little brother with his assignments."

"Is that so?" He asked with interest, crossing his arms as he continued to watch her. "What additional classes are you taking? Perhaps I might be able to help."

She takes a breath through her nose, summoning some patience. She'd mentioned her added subjects as proof of her busy schedule, not for him to use to keep the conversation going. 

"Ancient Runes, Care for Magical Creatures, and Arithmancy," she answered slowly, racking her brain with some sort of excuse to escape him.

He hummed. "I can't claim to be an expert in the other two but I am well versed in arithmancy should you need extra guidance," he offered, which made it even more difficult to reign in her frustration. "I remember your mother being terrible at it. I passed her my notes, of course, and helped her with... "

The look on his face as he continued to speak made her want to puke; while he was staring right at her, she could just tell that he wasn’t actually seeing  _ her _ . She’s heard from a few people that he courted her mother in their youth and evidence suggests that he might still be harboring romantic feelings toward her to this day. 

Sansa’s not one to make an assumption based on stories alone but he’s told her that she looked like her mother enough times to make her feel uncomfortable and she’s also seen first-hand how he would often act around her. As if he was a boy again and she was Catelyn Stark reborn. The idea made her sick to her stomach.

His nostalgia was thankfully cut off when the door at the back of the room suddenly opened, with Margaery’s head peeking in. "Oh. Sorry, Professor. Sansa promised to help me with this particular spell I'm having trouble with and wondered if she could teach me before class began?"

Sansa tried not to frown as she glanced back at Baelish and noticed the look of irritation that passed his face just before he spoke. "Yes, of course." A pause. "You're free to go, Miss Stark."

Sansa exited the room without another word to Baelish and muttered a quiet thank you to Margaery once they were far enough from the room. Although she was grateful for the help, she didn't understand why Marg would suddenly intervene like that when she's made it clear this entire school year that she didn’t care about her previous friendship with Sansa at all.

"You do know you have to be careful around him, right?" Marg broke the silence a moment later just as they neared the staircase.

Sansa turned to her former friend with a flat stare; of course she knew that, she'd been trying to avoid Baelish’s leery eyes for most of the school year and the one before. It wasn’t news to her that she had to be cautious of the man.

"You know what I meant,” Marg said, exasperated, when she noticed the aggravated look Sansa shot her. “And I wish you'd stop looking at me as if I stole Joffrey from you or something. You know that's not what happened.”

Sansa shot the girl an incredulous look this time; of course she knew what happened. Not that any of that mattered to her. She didn't care that Joffrey's mother thought her family were full of blood traitors and that she was deemed unworthy of the Baratheon heir. What mattered to her was that people she thought were her friends easily turned their backs on her when it benefited them. And here was Margaery now, acting as if Sansa was the one who abandoned her or something when it's actually the other way around.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. "You know I don't give a rat's ass about Joffrey, not after what happened. I told you the kind of person he is and if what I said didn’t alarm you then go ahead and marry him for all I care." She stopped walking and turned to Marg. "What I care about is you standing here and acting like you're my friend when you abandoned that pretense the first chance you got. Thanks again for stepping in with Baelish, Marg, but I can take care of myself."

With that, she walked away and left Margaery standing there with her mouth agape; Sansa wasn't one to snap at people like that but it felt good to speak her mind for a change.

She was just about to step towards the stairs when she saw Jon walking up her way; his face immediately lit up at the sight of her only for it to quickly evaporate into concern when he noticed the expression on her face. 

"Hey. What's wrong?" He asked, taking the last few steps to reach her. 

He pulled her aside just as Marg walked past them, a frown creasing his brows as he tried to think of what must have occured between the two. "Did something happen?"

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. It wasn’t Margaery that she was truly bothered by, it was Professor Baelish and his uncomfortable stares, his suggestive smiles, and how he always found ways to corner her. She didn't know how she'd begin explaining it to Jon; It's not that she didn't think he wouldn't understand, it's that she had no tangible proof that Baelish was treating her inappropriately save from her gut. And however much she wanted to confide in someone, she feared the judgement that would come her way should she do so.

"Nothing happened. I'm fine, Jon, truly." she lied, though he doesn’t seem to buy it.

There was a frown creasing his brow, though it wasn't actually rare for there to be. He was almost always frowning -- but she’s recently become all too familiar with his expressions and the miniscule differences to tell his frowns apart. Now he's looking at her as if he's trying to understand; trying to read her face right back.

"You don't look fine," he pointed out quietly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of her behind her ear before the palm of his hand rested against her cheek. There’s something so soft about the gesture, something so endearing, that she leaned against his touch. "You don't want to talk about it?"

She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her anger die down at each passing moment. She could keep mulling over how, exactly, her life turned out to be so complicated but it was difficult to do with him staring at her like  _ that _ .

"I have to get to class," was all she could manage to say.

He nodded in acceptance, choosing not to pry, as if he wasn't expecting any other kind of answer from her. "I'll walk you, then." His hand fell to hers and she felt her heart skip a beat as their fingers intertwined in an almost natural way. "Charms, right?"

She almost asked him how he knew her schedule before ultimately deciding against it. It didn't matter how; she assumed it was the same way she did, gathering every detail about him she could find and filing them inside the boxes of her mind. All without even realizing the information was already there all along. 

"What about you?" She tugged at his hand before he could start making his way back down the stairs. She knew for a fact that he was on his way to Transfiguration yet he was suggesting to go all the way down to the first to accompany her, only to go back up again to the same floor. "Professor Mordane doesn't appreciate latecomers. You’d get in trouble."

"It's fine. She’ll just knock off a few points from Gryffindor, but I'll win it back somehow," he assured, rubbing the back of her hand gently. "I want to make sure you get to class okay."

She rolled her eyes though she could feel her lips tugging up into a smile -- thoughts of Baelish, Margaery, and all her troubles in between were now long gone. 

"It's only three floors down, Jon," she reminded. Her tone was amused, teasing, even, as she pulled him back further from the stairs. "There's not a lot that could happen to me."

He frowned thoughtfully. "That's not true. You could trip, fall over, get lost on you way, encounter Peeves - *

”I’m not that clumsy,” she informed him with a laugh. He came up with the most ridiculous excuses sometimes, she thought, remembering the ones he made in Hogsmeade last weekend just so he could come with her to Honeydukes, and later so he could walk her up to the Ravenclaw Tower upon their return. “Besides, I’ve been walking these steps for years and haven’t once done any of what you mentioned. Go to class, Jon Snow. I won't be the reason you lose house points." 

She pushed him away lightly by the hand, urging him to move along, with her heart fluttering wildly all the while, but he remained rooted in front of her with a thoughtful look on his face. They stared at each other for a moment; with him looking as if he's trying to come to a decision and with her slightly confused as to what that decision might be.

"Alright, fine,” he sighed out with a pout after a moment of silence. “I guess I'll just see you at the Courtyard after lunch, then."

"The courtyard?" She asked in mild surprise, eyebrows arched in inquiry. She doesn't remember them making any such plans.

A slow smile spread on his lips. "Aye. I've something I think will make you feel better."

“I’m already feeling loads better,” she admitted to him, her stomach fluttering again (as though it found a moment to stop) at the mere sight of his upturned lips. 

She liked it, his smile. The way his pouty lips would tug up almost against his will and the way the corners of his eyes would wrinkle in mirth. She thought it unfortunate that she didn’t see it on his face often enough.

"Still. The Courtyard after lunch," he repeated, rubbing the back of her hand hopefully. “Will I see you there?”

She was quiet for a moment, pretending to think about it even though there was no way she was going to decline. It may not be obvious to him but she enjoyed his company just as much as he seemed to enjoy hers. 

"Alright. See you then," She finally agreed, stifling her own smile as his grew into a wide grin. 

“Good. I’m off to class, then,” he promised before reluctantly releasing her hand. “Careful on your way down. Wouldn’t want you to regret not bringing me along at your own expense.”

She merely rolled her eyes and watched as he finally turned and began walking towards the corridor leading to his classroom, and she waited until his form disappeared into the corner before heading down to her own class herself.

She never thought she'd ever find herself attracted to Jon Snow; he was handsome, to be sure, but awfully quiet and constantly brooding. These weren’t attributes she thought she would come to admire but she found that she liked his honest face, so easy for her to read, and that he didn't have the need to fill the silence with empty words. 

Without her even realizing how or when it began, the hours she would spend with him in the near empty library had become a sort of refuge. A warm shelter during a raging storm.

So consumed by her private musings, she didn’t even realize the quick passage of time until her classmates began to rise from their seats at the end of Charms. She rose from her own seat and quickly made her way to her dormitory to drop off her books before having a quick lunch at the Great Hall.

Sansa didn't see Jon come to grab some food, as he usually would before heading to the library, and he wasn't at the Courtyard yet when she finally got there after finishing her meal. She couldn’t help but wonder where he could possibly be and quietly hoped that he hadn't forgotten the agreement they made.

This was precisely the reason why she liked their unspoken arrangement to meet at the library; while she always hoped to see him sitting there at their usual table, he wasn't obligated to come there everyday as he did. He could miss a day and she’d never hold it against him. Making actual plans to spend time together, however, made her feel vulnerable; as if she’s willingly opening herself up to disappointment.

Just as her anxiety was starting to build up in the pit of her stomach, thinking that she might have just gotten her hopes up over nothing, she finally caught sight of Jon running along the corridor towards her.

"Have you been waiting long?" He asked her breathlessly when he reached her, looking exhausted when he finally stopped in front of her.

"No, I just got here,” she assured. “Why were you running?"

"I was hoping to get here before you," he admitted before sitting on the bench beside her and handing her the box he had with him. "Here. This is for you."

She glanced at him curiously, a silent question in her eyes as she accepted it. The box was pink and medium sized, with a red ribbon tied around it. The bottom of it was warm to the touch, piquing her interest even more. 

“Arya said this was your favorite,” he told her eagerly, an excited smile on his face. “Go ahead and open it.”

She reached for the ribbons and untied it; inside the box was a small round-shaped piece of lemon cake with a delicate design on top.

"Where did you get it?" She couldn’t help but ask, wonder clear in her voice.

They were in the middle of the week so he couldn't have brought it from Hogsmeade (not that she was even aware of a shop that sold them at the village) and lemon cakes weren't served in the Great Hall, either. He could have ordered it via owl post but she doubted it would still be warm upon arrival. Unless, of course, he reheated it?

"Got it from the kitchen," he answered with a proud smile before conjuring up a fork out of thin air and handing it to her. "The boys and I found the hidden entrance at the basement some days ago. The door opens when you tickle a pear on one of the pictures down there."

Sansa doesn’t bother asking how any of them could’ve possibly figured that out; she’s well aware that her brother and his friends, Jon among them, often got into mischief and would often get themselves in trouble because of it.

She took the fork gratefully. “Thank you, Jon. This was very thoughtful of you.”

He returned her gratitude with a bright smile, looking pleased with himself as he encouraged her to try the food.

Lemon cake wasn’t a popular dessert in Hogwarts so she hasn’t had one since she was last at home; while she always preferred her mother’s recipe over others, she had to admit that Jon's gift was delicious as well. It was fluffy and perfect, the citrusy flavor of the cake and the buttercream frosting complements each other so well that the taste bursts in her mouth.

His lips tugged up into a bright smile as he watched her eat. “Good?”

She nodded and took another forkful before offering it to him without thought. "Here. Have a taste."

Jon glanced at her awkwardly, hesitantly, before he leaned over and took the mouthful. Sansa didn't know why she didn't just hand him the fork instead of feeding it to him herself but she pretended nothing was amiss as she took another forkful and shoved it in her mouth. It didn't have to mean anything.

"You have - uh - " she turned to him consciously, surprised that he would be looking right at her mouth. He cleared his throat and gave her a sheepish smile. "Here, let me - " He reached a hand out to the corner of her mouth and wiped away the stray frosting she didn't realize was there and licked it off his thumb.

Sansa took a shallow breath, feeling the heat rise up her cheeks. As much as she's been trying to safeguard her heart, she couldn't help but wonder what it was she was doing with Jon. She had no idea, truly, but it felt as if they were dangling between friendship and something else entirely. 

"Are you excited for the holidays?" He asked all of a sudden, an obvious yet appreciated attempt to change the topic. 

"I am. I missed home this year more than I ever had in the past," she admitted, thinking of the old stone castle in the North that she loved dearly. Winterfell, just days away from her grasp. "I miss the rest of my family most of all, though. Mother and father. Rickon, especially. I'm sure it's odd for him to be at home on his own with Bran attending Hogwarts this year."

“I’m sure he can't wait to see you all back,” Jon agreed with a small smile and she could only assume he was thinking of her wild nine-year-old brother who clung to him like a leech the last time he visited their home.

Jon intercepted her just before she could take another bite of cake, taking her hand and directing the fork to his mouth instead. “How about you?” She asked curiously, ignoring the continuous fluttering in her stomach as he let go of her hand. “Are you excited for a bit of a break? I heard from Robb that Waymar Royce was overworking you.”

"I’d much prefer the rigorous training to going back to Dragonstone, if I’m honest," he finally admitted after a while, turning to look across the courtyard self-consciously. "A lot of my father’s relatives stay at the house over the holidays and none of them are particularly fond of me so it's usually just frustrating. I’d do anything to be anywhere else." 

Sansa knew, albeit vaguely, that Jon had a complicated relationship with his family. He seemed to get along with his siblings well enough, she'd often see him with his brother and sister around the corridors or the Great Hall, laughing and evidently comfortable in each other's company. But she also remembered one instance during the summer before her third year when he flew to Winterfell after some sort of altercation with his uncle.

Jon had arrived at their ancestral home with a bloody mouth, a bruised eye, and a burned hand, all of which were immediately attended to by her and her mother. She didn't ask him what happened, she didn’t feel as if she was in a position to do so, though she couldn’t imagine why anyone, especially his blood relations, would ever seek to harm him.

“Where would you go?” She found herself asking, pulling his attention from staring thoughtfully over the distance. “If you could go anywhere else instead of Dragonstone, I mean.”

“It’s not a place I want to go to, exactly. It’s more of a -- feeling, I suppose,” he answered slowly, thoughtfully, as though he couldn’t be sure of it himself. 

He turned to her after a short bout of silence. “I’ll let you when I find it.”


	6. Jon IV

Despite the bright sky overhead and the warmth emanating from the sunlight, it might as well have been a murky, sunless morning with how terrible Jon was feeling as he sat inside the train compartment.

“Seven hells, mate. Lighten up a bit, will you?” Theon groaned across from him, kicking him lightly on the shin. “I’m not spending the entire ride home with you sulking right in front of me.”

Jon had his head resting against the window, glum as he ever was, watching quietly as students continued to pile inside the train. “Feel free to sit beside me then,” he retorted, gesturing to the empty seat next to him that was usually reserved for Robb without bothering to look.

Jon has every right to be in a foul mood; in only a matter of hours, they'll all be dropped off at King's Landing Station for their holiday break, which means that for the next two weeks, he would be stuck in Dragonstone with relatives who wanted nothing more than for him to not be there. He sighed out and shut his eyes, mentally preparing himself for what a sure nightmare it would be for him.

As he wallowed in his own misfortune, he heard the compartment door slide open. He didn't bother checking who it was, really not in the mood to entertain people -- not even after realizing it was Arya, who was probably his most favorite person in the world.

"Oh, here you boys are," she said as a few other people entered the compartment. Jon felt the seat next to him dip as someone occupied it but he ignored it still, keeping up the pretense of being asleep. "Robb's not here yet?”

“Still at the prefects’ carriage," Theon was the one to answer. "Won't be back for a while, I don't think. I'm pretty sure he fancies one of the other prefects."

"And Gendry?"

"He's staying at Hogwarts for the holiday."

"Huh. Alright, then. Well, I'll see you lot later. My friends are waiting for me at the back. Bran, you’re good here?”

The compartment door slid close not long after and Jon assumed Bran simply answered with a nod. 

“You don’t want to sit with your friends, little wolf?” He heard Theon ask after a beat.

“Jojen’s not going home for Christmas, either,” Bran replied in explanation before asking, in a much lower voice: “What’s wrong with Jon? Is he ill?”

Jon couldn't help but wish that he was; it would have been better if he could’ve been ill enough to miss the train ride home. It was preferable than spending two weeks tiptoeing around people who could barely stop themselves from striking him down with an unforgivable spell. 

“No, he's not ill,” Theon responded for him. “He’s just not looking forward to going home.”

“Why not?” Bran asked again, inquisitive as ever. “It’s Christmas.”

“Bran. Don’t be nosy,” someone else spoke up, her tone soft yet reproachful at the same time. 

Jon immediately straightened up at the sound of her voice, catching all three of them by surprise. He ignored this and turned to his side, not expecting to see Sansa sitting there right next to him. "Oh -- uh -- hi,” he stuttered out, extremely awkward as he drank in the sight of her.

He didn't think she’d be joining them, though he probably should have. It’s not as if her old friends were being kind to her as of late.

She offered him a smile, small and only for him -- at least he’d like to think it’s only for him. “Hi. You can go back to sleep, don’t mind us.”

He's vaguely aware that they weren’t alone at the moment and that Theon was a keen observer at picking up information he could use to make fun of Jon, but fuck it if he could look away when Sansa was looking at him like that. Suddenly, he had no clue why he was feeling so down in the first place.

"It's alright. I wasn't sleeping," he said with a slight shake of his head.

"No, he was just sulking," Theon cut in with a roll of his eyes. "But there’s nothing new there."

Robb suddenly slipped into the compartment, a playful smirk on his lips. "Oh, leave him alone, T,” he said as he claimed a free seat, though the way he was smiling at Jon suggested he wasn't going to follow his own advice. "You know he's just moping around because going home means he won't be able to see his lady love." 

_ What the fu -- _

“I’ve no idea what you're on about,” Jon choked out, feeling very aware that Sansa was sitting. Right. There.

“Oh please, Jon ‘I’m headed to the library’ Snow,” Theon followed up with a laugh, knocking his boots against Jon’s leg. “Did you honestly think we believed your lousy excuse?”

“Right. As if you even like studying that much,” Robb agreed with a grin, finding the whole thing hilarious. “Can you even read?”

"Of course I can read," he muttered grumpily, at a loss for what else to say. 

"So… tell us, then," Theon said, wagging his eyebrows, "Who is it?"

Jon tried not to glance at Sansa, unsure how else to react. He had no problem admitting that he liked her, because yes, he realized some time ago that he does like her very much, but it didn't seem right to put her on the spot like that. He’s not even sure that she knows, or if she even likes him back. He’s sure as hell not going to open that conversation for her brothers to hear.

He felt his face heating up, the situation so awkward that he honestly did not know what to do. Usually, he was good at deflecting his friends' antics but he felt like a mess with Sansa around. “Oh, fuck off, both of you,” he groused, directing a glare to his friends and their smug faces.

“What? are you shy?” Theon asked, showing no signs of wanting to fuck off as he had just asked. He glanced at Sansa, then Bran. “You don’t want the wolf pups to hear?”

“Don’t worry, Jon, we’re all friends here,” Robb assured him with that same teasing tone. “Sansa might even give you advice if you ask. She’s good at all those romance stuff, you know.”

“Oh, don’t you drag me into this,” Sansa responded without missing a beat, amusement coloring her voice. He wished he could sound as unfazed as she obviously was. “Besides, I’m sure Jon’s doing well on his own.”

Jon turned to her then, his hopeful heart jumping at the insinuation. “Yeah?” He asked, his voice relatively quiet, directing the question at her.

She gave a slight nod with a playful smile on her lips and he couldn't help mirror it back to her. He didn't give a damn that the others with them might catch on. All he could think of was how much he needed the assurance that he actually hasn't been doing a terrible job at trying to  _ woo _ her.

The rest of the ride didn't seem too terrible after that, though the feeling lasted only until the train came to a stop. He glanced back at the window when he realized, his chest deflating when he realized they'd arrived at King's Landing Station. 

The station wasn’t as busy as it would have been at the end of the year but it’s still filled with parents awaiting to bring their children home. Even seven years after his mother’s death, he still couldn’t help but search for her among the crowd and fantasize about how it would be like if she was actually there. He’d hug her as tight as he could, that’s for sure. He probably wouldn’t be able to let go.

He took a sharp inhale, shaking the fantasy away.  _ No use dreaming about it _ , he thinks before finally rising from his seat along with the others to exit the train. 

“You should send me an owl,” Sansa says suddenly, falling back next to him as students lined up towards the door. She’s looking at him somberly, as if she could tell just how horrible he felt. “If you ever wanted to talk.”

Slowly, he offered her a grateful smile, thanking her for the offer. He followed her on her way to her family and waited until they’ve all taken their turns greeting Mr and Mrs Stark before doing the same. 

“I’ve a present for you,” he told Rickon conspiratorially once the boy came up to him. His face lit up excitedly at the mention of a gift and Jon couldn’t help but smile in return. “You’ll have to ask Robb for it on Christmas or else he’ll forget to give it to you.”

He nodded dutifully and Jon ruffled his hair fondly before finally bidding the Starks goodbye to find his own siblings. It’s his stepmother, Elia, who spotted him first as he neared them and he doesn’t hesitate to accept the embrace she offered in greeting. 

She stepped away a moment after, brows furrowed in concern as she studied him. “You’ve grown thin,” she observed. “You haven’t been eating well?”

He opened his mouth to respond but Rhae beat him to it. “How could he when he’s been spending all his time playing quidditch?”

He made a face, fully aware of his sister’s complaints about him spending too much time training. Thankfully, Aegon quickly came to his defense before he could come up with a reassuring reply.

“Seven save me. Stop worrying, both of you,” Aegon says exasperatedly, throwing his arm around Jon. “He’s fine. I’m sure it’s only puberty.”

Jon tossed him a glare at that, though he couldn’t actually be mad at his brother when he looked so pleased with himself.

They don’t linger at the station for much longer, to Jon’s disappointment. He would’ve liked to prolong the inevitable for much longer but knew he couldn’t.

He reminded himself that it would only be two weeks, anyway. It almost seemed like nothing when he thought about how much longer he spent away from there. He’ll hate every second of being back, to be sure, but he could probably survive spending two weeks with the entire Targaryen clan. He’s done it many times before.

It also helped that Elia was around; he wouldn't have lasted in Dragonstone if not for her. She was the one who always looked out for him and shielded him from his grandfather’s vitriol. And though he spent a long time warming up to her, he’s come to realize just how similar they actually were. 

While they both bore the Targaryen name, they were still outsiders and were treated as such by extended family. Often ignored if not outright disrespected. Jon figured this was the reason why she was so kind to him even when she had no reason to be. 

She knew better than anyone how difficult his situation was because she had to live through it herself and so she decided to take care of him like he was her own. 

As they usually would, they travelled back to Dragonstone via a flying ship. The journey lasted only for a couple of hours and the island was quiet when they arrived, which was unsurprising considering they were getting in late. Even so, Jon has to drag his feet towards the manor, expecting his grandfather to be inside waiting to greet his beloved grandchildren and to curse at him. 

To his surprise, though, it’s actually Elia’s brother waiting for them by the door. They didn’t notice him immediately, dark at it was, until he stepped into the direction of the torchlight.

“Uncle Oberyn!” Aegon said in surprise, sounding pleased to see his uncle. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It’s meant to be a surprise,” he laughed, walking towards his sister.

Oberyn Martell had a fearsome reputation; people called him ‘Red Viper’, likening his swift movement in combat to that of a snake. Anyone who knew him, though, knew that he was nothing of the sort when it came to his family. Especially when it came to his little sister.

“When did you get in?” Elia asked happily, leaning into her brother’s embrace. “You said you’d wait until tomorrow to come.”

Jon couldn’t believe that he was actually in Dragonstone. The Martells rarely came to visit, if at all. Usually, it would be them who travelled to Sunspear to visit Elia’s family during school breaks. 

Those were some of Jon’s favorite summers, glad that his stepmother never even considered leaving him behind to deal with Mad Aerys all on his own. He was relieved, too, that her family never once regarded him like an interloper. They were kind and welcoming, as if he was as much part of the family as his siblings were. 

He knew the Martells were still angry at his father, taking it as a slight that he fathered a bastard and dishonoring Elia, but they never once took it out on him. Itwas almost ironic that he was treated much better by them than his own blood relations did, when the knowledge of his father’s infidelity definitely hurt them more than anyone else.

“It’s nearly midnight, I’m not early by much. And it’s been too long since I last saw you and the children, I couldn’t wait a moment more,” Oberyn responded, pressing a kiss to Elia’s temple. “Ellaria and my Sand Snakes will arrive tomorrow as planned.”

Aegon turned to him with wide eyes at the mention of the Sand Snakes and the pair of them grinned at each other excitedly. It was always fun whenever Oberyn’s children were around, they were good with combative spells as well as actual combat, and had no problem sharing their tricks with them. They would also most definitely irk Viserys, which was always an added bonus for Jon.

Once the Sand Snakes actually arrived, the holidays became so much more entertaining than he ever thought it would be. As he already expected, Viserys was  _ ‘outraged’ _ to be in the company of such women -- whatever that meant. And his father’s staff, who frequented their home, didn’t know how to respectfully approach them either. 

They didn’t mind any of it, though, and found it all very amusing. Jon wished he shared the same response when the repulsion was directed at him.

The next few days flew by almost too quickly, much to his surprise. With so many visitors staying at the manor, he spent most of his time helping Elia around the house and then some of his free time in the courtyard, learning new tricks from the Sand Snakes. At night, he would write a letter to Sansa and wait for her response in the morning.

The only time Jon was actually reminded of how much he actually hated being in Dragonstone was during Christmas itself. The Targaryens always held an extravagant party on the night of, with the majority of Westerosi elite in attendance.

Of course, the Starks and those his grandfather deemed ‘unworthy’ were never and would never be invited, so there wasn’t actually anyone he liked there and instead had to deal with snobby people who saw him as less. And their children. 

He usually has to weather such events on his own since Aegon was actually friends with some of them, like Joffrey, Loras, and the likes. He’d follow his sister around if he had the option, since her friends were much more pleasant, but she already snuck out hours ago with their cousins Arianne Martell and Tyrene Sand.

Jon decided to duck out as well, retiring to his bed early into the night. No one would miss him anyway so it was better to save himself the trouble. 

When he got to his room, he found an owl waiting for him by the window sill and a bag of gifts on the floor. He untied the string on its foot and it flew away immediately without waiting for him to give it some food to nibble on as thanks for the trouble.

He turned to the bag with a smile and took out the first thing he found, which was a letter from Robb wishing him a happy christmas. He left the letter on his desk and carried the bag to his bed, opening each one. Inside was a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Stark, as well as a gift each from each of the kids, including Rickon, who gave him a hand-made necklace made of...  _ bones _ . 

Though this year’s holiday break was one of the better ones he’s had, he was relieved once the day to head back to Hogwarts finally arrived. Most times, he felt more at ease with the Starks than with his own family.

“D’you remember to bring it?” Robb asked him quietly as soon as they met up at the train station, his friend giving him an expectant, somewhat hopeful look.

“Aye. I have it in my trunk,” he replied with a nod and his mind drifted to the potion ingredients he’d plucked from Dragonstone’s collection that they would need once the next full moon arrived.


End file.
